


Runs Red [HIATUS]

by ThreeAM



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gangstuck, Gen, Multi, implied rape, just read it the setting will come to you, life has gotten shittier and more superficial, medical science has advanced etc, rival gangs, set in a future which isnt too different, theres gonna be character deaths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 14:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeAM/pseuds/ThreeAM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the city of Skaia where the rich are very rich and the poor are very poor, gangs in the slums fighting is not uncommon. But, the rivalry between Dust and Phantone is the longest and most notorious gang feud known to the city. Dust plays its mind games, leaving their marks, pulling strings and attacking their enemy where it hurts. Phantone is strong, its members steadfast and renouned for their power and skill, a force to be reckoned with as they glare down their rivals with threats of force. Both sides lack what the other has and so for years they have been locked in a stalemate, a churning maelstrom that never relents. </p><p>However something isn't right lately, and as members start to run into each other on peaceful terms, the deadlock upheld by their leaders begins to crumble, and the hungry, scared children of Skaia's rough side begin to wonder if all this bloodshed is really worth.... worth what exactly?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Caught in the Headlights

10pm, Saturday December 1st. A dark haired girl stands uncomfortably in a dimly lit, musky smelling club. The entire room is dirty, the sound system is sub-par and anyone with eyes can tell from their surroundings that the club is in the rough side of town. Homeless kids freeloading in warehouses and selling their bodies for modification (or modbods, derogatorally) experimentation flock in dusty places like this in their spare time.

It should be clarified that this flocking is rarely for leisure. Most of the time people are here to make trades of either weapons, drugs or information under the cover of noise and distraction. Our dark haired little modbod is no different; she's here for information. 

She had heard there was a cheaper supplier of ammunition in town and that she could find him here, but where was she to start looking? Perhaps she should give up. Her gang -- no -- her family, the Phantones, could get by regardless. And this club was enemy territory. Sure, some gangs had quarrels from time to time but the Phantones and Dust were notorious for their rivalry. It had been going on for decades and the original perpetrators of the quarrel were long dead, and the reason for the conflict long lost, but the fact still remained that if she was recognized (even someone with a modification which was fairly common could be spotted by an astute observer) she would be in trouble. After all, Dust co-ran this joint.

"Fuck this." she muttered to herself, tugging down the hem of her stolen tiny black dress for the billionth time that night. All her clothes were stolen. Heck, only a handful of people in this room were wearing clothes they had bought personally. That's just the way it was for people like her; rejected as children for imperfections or born to street rats themselves. It didn't matter anyhow. There was no place for her or her family in the upper class world and so she had to make do with the life she had.

She stood straight from the wall she was leaning against, taking a moment to balance on her silky black heels and slide her glasses up her nose, then made a bee-line for the exit. It was her birthday today, and although she would not receive presents and did not expect any, she did not want to spend the last hours of it in a Dust club just waiting to be recognized and killed... or worse, made an example of. With a poorly concealed shiver, she remembered the day two years ago when they had sent Kurloz Makara stumbling home with his lips stitched shut with copper wire. He couldnt speak without severe pain for a week afterwards... not that he was a man of many words anyway. 

She did not spot the two men heading for the door to cut her off before it was too late to get past them. Like a deer caught in headlights she froze, unable to move as the pace of her heartbeat skyrocketed. The fact that she had assessed the exits on her way in proved no help; there were two doors that could be opened and she doubted the other meant escape. Regardless, she turned and tried to lose herself in the crowd, pushing between the dancing bodies as her heart pounded in her chest. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she wasn't getting away, but still she ducked past a girl with long pink braids and an eyebrow piercing, weaved between two modbod cat girls (pink and blue fur respectively) and stumbled over the foot of a tall blonde with dark tinted glasses. She turned to apologize, but she felt the blood drain from her face as she spotted the two young men, one with slicked black hair and a cigarette, the other towering and muscled with a round-spectacled, gaunt face, pushing their way through the crowd after her. The guy with the shades followed her gaze and an expression that looked suspiciously like grave recognition crossed his face, and then he was gone.

He does not want to see what's about to go on, she realized, and her heart shattered. She felt the shards pooling in her toes as she watched the two figures draw near. There was nowhere to run but she pushed free of the crowd anyway; she had to try. The girl ran as fast as she could in her heels, daring not stop to take them off as desperation clouded her vision and made her mouth go dry and her throat coarse, as if she had swallowed a mouthful of fine sand.

Arms thicker than her legs wrapped around her waist and a hand slapped over her mouth as she was lifted off the ground and carried, squirming and biting, to the second door. The door that doesn't go outside. 

Your name is Jade Harley and it just so happens that today, the 1st of December, is about to become the worst birthday of your life. And you have had some pretty bad birthdays.


	2. Delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave Strider is used to running errands, but the errands are rarely human.

"So what am I doing here, exactly?" The question was delivered gruffly and without reservation. It wasn't like Dave Strider had anything else he could be doing right now, but he still held disdain toward accomplishing mundane tasks for his... Family. How he hated that term. A group of grubby kids trying to use homeless rats to fill the hole where kinship and love should have been, and then killing, destroying and raping in it's name. If it weren't keeping him and his real family alive then he would have been out long ago.

A tall, unwashed woman with a wild mass of dark hair and a pungent aroma of smoke surrounding her sat at the desk across from him. He had been here just last night, in the grungy little shithole his gang called 'The Red Rabbit.' Lousy excuse for a club, most will admit, but it served it's purpose. Right now, Dave held an audience with this woman in the rooms behind the club itself, which they liked to call management. A displeasing smell wafted from the hall to his right and he knew better than to let his eyes stray down there.

After a long drag on her cigarette, the head of family met his gaze -- or rather, shades. "An errand," she said simply, the answer he was expecting. "And hey where'd you run off to last night, aye? We could'a used your help."  
Dave studied her expression carefully. "With what?" He asked, but he got no reply. Perhaps for the best, even, because when Cody was behind something he generally avoided getting involved. Behind the various doors of leading to her 'office', he could hear a lot of activity. For a syndicate of lower class homeless, Dust was pretty wired. A lot of his 'family' worked here in the day, as well as a few other trusted parties. Lots to do to keep this place afloat, apparently.  
"I like you Dave in your own douchey way. You don't waste time tryin to show your emotions here 'cause ya know i don't give two shits." Not exactly a spot-on observation, but he wasn't about to argue with her. "Kinda like yo bro but i dunno he's weird. Somefin about him don't sit right."   
Dave was aware she was more talking to herself than to him but again, he would just let her go on and be on his way as soon as he could. "I wou--"  
"Although i guess it's cause he's always pissin off to fuck knows where, ey. Where's he go? He ain't never here to help us out. Not like you, Dave, you're here which is especially awesome right now 'cause like i said before. Errand yo." She flips her hair over her shoulder as the door to that displeasing hall opened wider and a guy who Dave didn't pause to assess came through it, something bundled in his arms. "A message for those shitfaced Phanties. Y'know the drill, they know where to look for her."

Of course he knew. He was to take the message to mutual territory, the grey area between their main bases, and leave it there for the 'Phanties' to find. Phantone had been Dusts' sworn enemy as long as anyone could remember, and the message were usually sprayed words on walls, clothes of dead members or even someone's ear, once. But as he was handed the bundle, his stomach turned. He had never had to deliver a person before, let alone one he recognized. He forced himself to look up, not trusting his face not to betray him. "Is she alive?"  
Cody waved her hand indignantly, already obviously finished with their discussion. "She'll live to yap to her friends about what a fuckin blast she had. That'll teach those scum to show em'selves in our joint. Now piss off Strider, i'm workin' 'ere."

With a tensed jaw he turned and walked, and kept walking until he was out of the Red Rabbit and far down the street and around the corner, until he dared look down.

He had expected to be spared the feeling of guilt the second time around, but he discovered it wasn't the case now that he could get a proper look. He had seen her the night before, tripping over his foot, although back then she didn't have dirt, eye makeup and dried tears smeared across her face. He remembered because of her dog ears and teeth, and because when she stared in horror past him he had spotted Cronus and Horuss heading for her. Obviously they had been sent by Cody. Although, it's not just any Phantone who is just recognized. He quietly wondered what she had done to earn recognition, but as his eyes moves past her face he was sure whatever she'd done probably wasn't enough to deserve this. There were bruises on her shoulders and wrists and her dress had been sliced. Through the ragged remains he spotted not only more bruises but a 'D' jaggedly scratched into her skin just below her navel. It took all he had not to vomit all over her, and silently he wished they had killed her instead. Dead bodies he had seen and could handle, but broken living ones? Still a raw patch.

The hike across town wasn't his best. It wasn't because of the extra weight; Lady Phantone here wasn't all that heavy at all, he had noted. It was his conscience that weighted him. Most people took him for one of those people who decided to 'stop feeling' years ago, but really the only thing he had done was stop expressing what he felt. Dave wasn't the kind of person who opened up to people often and that's the way he liked it. If anything happened to him, at least, then only a few would have been close enough to him to mourn. People die every day out here, and sickeningly the gangs cared more about the loss of a member rather than the loss of a person. They needed numbers and skill and they were all too protective of their own for all the wrong reasons. 

A few times during the trip, she stirred. He tried to ignore her, hoping she'd stay out of it and he wouldn't have to deal with actually being introduced to her. He had to continually remind himself that this girl was a Phantone who would probably kill him on sight, given the opportunity. The ones with the mods were always fierce. Usually they were the kind who are looking out for siblings, overprotective enough to disfigure themselves so their family can eat. One less threat on the streets is one less threat to fight off when they come running in to slaughter you; A mindset he had observed all too well in his own siblings. Although lately Dirk had bee acting odd, disappearing for days on ends and never sticking around when he came back. Oh well.

"Are you taking me home?" the groggy voice had an innocent way about it, but it sounded tired and hoarse. Her eyes were not open, or squinting a lot, he couldn't tell which. Her had lifted her head from where it was lulling backwards previously. Even without being able to see he figured she could tell she was outdoors.  
He pressed his lips together and kept walking. Don't talk, don't think, just walk. She's not your problem for much longer.  
She stirred, and Dave didn't spot her exact movement but guessed she tried to move her leg or stretch, as the girl quickly froze and made a noise that he tried his best to ignore, to little avail. He felt her cautiously slacken her body. Her olive skin was freezing and clammy to the touch. "Did I escape...?  
Dave swallowed, and immediately got a feeling in his throat like he'd just eaten a ping pong ball. His voice almost faltered as he replied, against his better judgment, "No." Stubbornly, he forced himself to look ahead. "You didn't escape."  
The girl in his arms sniffled and for a second he thought she was crying. When his head snapped down to look at her, he realized with exasperation that she was merely sniffling from the cold. Her face was knotted into a frown, her eyebrows creased in an almost hurt expression. "But i'm going home right?"  
"Yeah." The blonde stole a glance and caught her staring at him like she was trying to remember something. "You're lucky they didn't kill you." Was she?  
Bitterly, as if echoing his thoughts with grave irony, she replied "Am I?" 

He tried not to let his face show pity or sadness. He failed, and they didn't exchange words for several minutes thereafter. When they finally did, she was half asleep again, exhausted from her awful night previous. "Will they be out looking for you yet?" Dave asked, shaking her slightly to wake her up.   
Dog girl lifted her head and looked at the sun. "Usually they don't get worried until dark but..." she paused, for reasons lost on the likes of him. "They knew where i was going. And my brother would have been looking since last night..."  
"You shouldn't have gone. Half the leads they feed you guys are bait anyway." He blurted, without really thinking until it was far too late. Oh he was in trouble if they found out it was him who leaked that.  
She paused for a moment "It was bait?" She sounded a little hurt but he thought her heard anger somewhere in the undertones.  
"Be careful from now on. Confirm your damn sources before shit like this happens."  
"Are you blaming me?" Yep. Anger.  
This is why i never open my mouth, he thinks to himself. Shit comes out wrong. "It's not your fault, don't get mad. I wasn't even supposed to tell you about that." He was struggling to find a good way of phrasing his argument. "Just be skeptical. Tell your friends the lead was bait, don't mention me."  
She scoffs, obviously still mad. "I couldn't mention you if i wanted to, so don't worry."  
"It's Dave."  
"What?"  
He let out a sigh of exasperation. "My name."  
"Way to make yourself easier to identify, genius. What if i rat you out to Dust? What makes you think i won't let them kill you for info leaks?" her tone is thick with cynicism behind it's tired strain.  
He smirks, a small gesture but a gesture nonetheless. "After i carried you all the way home? That'd be rude." 

They walk in silence for most of the rest of the way. Somewhere between the end of their conversation and the point where he set her down beside a pile of cardboard boxes, fast asleep, and draped his red, leather long coat over her before disappearing into the labyrinth of alleys once more, she gave him her name. The words were so slurred he almost missed them, but it was a surreal feeling. They were not, by any stretch, friends. By no means did Dave Strider feel as if she owed him anything, nor did he have any proper reason to believe they would cross paths again. But he felt that having to carry her home sobered him to the fact that he walked away from her the night before, and as much as he didn't like it he knew too much. She had a brother, like him. A proper brother, with the same parents. He worried for her as his own brother worried for him, and suddenly his lifelong enemy seemed far too human for comfort. He wasn't crazy enough to ditch Dust over this. Ganghopping rarely went well for anyone, and he'd have nowhere to go without his 'family'. It was the least he could do however, because he knew from the outset she wouldn't mention his name to anyone, that he would find some way to tell her if Dust made plans that threatened her. 

Funny. He'd always told himself not to get attached, but there was something about the danger of what he was planning to do, the consequences of being caught, and the experience of seeing and knowing a Phantone as a real person rather than a demonized enigma, that excited Dave Strider.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the short chapters, i cant garuntee whether they will remain constantly this short. We'll see how it goes.


End file.
